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MISS ELLIS'S MISSION.

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This little sketch of Miss Ellis's life and work owes its first suggestion to Rev. J. Ll. Jones, of Chicago, who soon after her death wrote: "Why not try for a little memorial of her, to be accompanied with some of the most touching and searching extracts from the letters both received and written by her, and make it into a little booklet for the instruction of Post Office Mission Workers?... Can you not make it something as touching as 'Miss Toosey,' and far more practical,—that is, for our own little household of faith?... We do not want it primarily as a missionary tool, but as a wee fragment of the spiritual history of the world,—something that will lift and touch the soul of everybody.... In short, give us an enlightened Miss Toosey; her mission being as much stronger as Sallie Ellis was more rational and mature than the original 'Miss Toosey'!"

No one knowing Miss Ellis could read the touching little story of "Miss Toosey's Mission" without being struck by a resemblance in the characters, though a resemblance with a marked difference. As one said, "I never saw her going up the church aisle Sundays, with her audiphone, her little satchel, her bundle of books and papers, and her hymn-book, without thinking of Miss Toosey." In both lives a seemingly powerless and insignificant personality, through the force of a great yearning to do a bit of God's work in the world, achieved its longing far beyond its fondest dreams. As I read the many letters from all over the country that have come since Miss Ellis's death, as I realize how the spiritual force that burned in the soul of this small, feeble, seemingly helpless woman reached out afar and touched many lives for their enduring ennoblement, her life, so meagre and cramped in its outward aspect, so vivid and intense within and on paper, seems to me not without a touch of romance. To perpetuate a little longer the influence of that life is the object of this sketch.

Sallie Ellis was born in Cincinnati, March 13, 1835. The old-fashioned name Sallie, at that time popular in the South and West, was given her in honor of an aunt. She disliked sailing under the false colors of "Sarah." In letters she usually signed herself "S. Ellis," because, as she explained to one correspondent, "I do not know myself as Sarah, and Sallie is not dignified enough in writing to strangers; so I usually prefer plain S." Late in life, however, for reasons of dignity, she sometimes felt forced to adopt Sarah as what she called her "official signature."

Her father, Mr. Rowland Ellis, was born in Boston, but while yet young removed to Cincinnati, where he still lives in a vigorous and honored old age. Although his mother, in all her later years at least, was a devoted attendant upon Theodore Parker's services, Mr. Ellis in early life was a Baptist. But when the Unitarian Church was founded at Cincinnati, in 1830, his name appears among the organizers, of whom he is almost the sole survivor. Of that church he has always been a devoted supporter and constant attendant. He was a leading banker of the West, and Sallie was born into one of the most elegant and luxurious homes in Cincinnati. The Ellises kept open house, exercised the most generous hospitality, and made, as one says who knew them well then, "such a beautiful use of their money. The Ellises were just the people who ought to have money." Mrs. Ellis is described as a woman of unusual loveliness of character. Out of the eight children, Sallie was thought to be the mother's favorite, because, it was supposed, she was always puny, shy, and delicate. "Sallie shall always have what she wants," said the mother, "because she wants so little." But mothers know, and undoubtedly the mother saw deeper than others into the rare spiritual quality concealed from the world under her delicate child's quiet, reserved exterior. Her older sister remembers of Sallie's childhood: "As a very young child she exhibited strongly marked peculiarities of character. Her affection, conscientiousness, piety, and love of duty made her different from the rest of us as children. I remember well that at home or at school there were never any rebukes for Sallie. Though very social by nature, as young as at five and six years of age she loved to be alone, and would sit in the corner of her mother's room, with face turned to the corner, musing, and talking in a low tone to her doll. When our father and mother would take the children to entertainments of various descriptions, such as children enjoy, Sallie would invariably express her preference to remain at home. If she thought her parents wanted her to go, she went."

For some years Sallie attended the private school of Mrs. Anne Ryland, an English Unitarian (a former parishioner, I think, of Rev. Laut Carpenter, and connected by marriage with Rev. Brooke Herford), a lady of noble character, and a teacher whose culture and methods were in advance of her age. In a volume of poetry presented Sallie by this teacher, is this inscription, whose old-fashioned quaintness of phrase pictures for us the Sallie Ellis of thirteen, then, as always, faithful to duty.

"Mrs. Ryland has been much gratified by the general deportment of Miss Sallie Ellis since she has been under her charge. Miss Ellis has evinced an evident desire to please, by a strict observance of the rules of the school, and by assiduous and persevering attention to all her studies. She has made improvement in them all fully commensurate with her laudable endeavors, in Grammar, Geography, and Orthography particularly. It is with unfeigned regret that Mrs. Ryland has to add, to the foregoing expression of her approval of her dear pupil's conduct, the last word,—Farewell."

Later, she attended the private school of Rev. William Silsbee, who says of her, "She was always studious and well-behaved, one of the most faithful of all my pupils." Mr. M. Hazen White, for so many years superintendent of the Unitarian Sunday school, was also one of her teachers. When seventeen, she was sent to Mrs. Charles Sedgwick's school, in Lenox, Mass. A schoolmate describes her then as a quite pretty, black-eyed girl, of delicate physique, a good and studious but not brilliant scholar, very quiet and retiring, and almost morbidly reserved. The few friends she made here, however, were life-long, and she corresponded with some of the Lenox schoolmates until her death. "She was a perfect dancer," says the schoolmate.

Treasured among Miss Ellis's papers were found some pages of a schoolgirl's album, marked, "At Mrs. Sedgwick's School, Lenox, Mass., March, 1852." It contains verses descriptive of each pupil, written apparently by Mrs. Sedgwick. The little pen-picture of the schoolgirl paints well the woman of later years.

SALLIE ELLIS.

If device for an old Latin motto were asked,

No invention would need to be very much tasked;

For the "multum in parvo" you safely might stand, With book, needle, or pen, ever found in your hand. A little, wee body with strong, earnest will, That steadily works with the force of a mill; A mind quite untiring, whatever it do, Its manifold ends with good heed to pursue: Hands busy and strong play deftly their part, And these all controlled by a good, honest heart.

Bright indeed looked Sallie's future in those days. A year or two more at school, then a return to the loved mother and the beautiful home, and a "coming out" into the brilliant world with all the advantages attending wealth and position. But the clouds were already gathering which in coming years were to darken for her in quick succession the sunshine of earthly prosperity. She was called home from school by the illness of her mother. The mother died, leaving Sallie the oldest daughter at home, to fill her place as best she might to five little brothers and sisters.

Her sister says: "Our dear mother's death was the turning-point in Sallie's life. She was so shrinking, sensitive, and tender by nature, no one could fully understand her but a mother who had watched the hidden beauties of her character expand from infancy to girlhood."

The mother's memory was fondly cherished, her loss deeply mourned, all Miss Ellis's life. Over the dying bed of the worn and weary woman of fifty smiled down the radiant face of the mother, painted when a young, blooming girl. Among Miss Ellis's papers was found a manuscript volume of eighty-one pages of selections, copied in her clear, firm handwriting, index of the spirit's strength. It is headed, "Crumbs of Comfort for the Afflicted." The selections are from the Bible, sermons, hymns, and poems,—all breathing of religious trust and help in grief,—a beautiful and touching collection. The first page reads,—

"Begun in Nov. 1870.

"These selections are made in memory of my dear mother, who was called away many years since, and through whose death I was led to think of a higher life,—the true life of the soul.

"'Oh, I believe there is no away; that no love, no life, goes ever from us; it goes as He went, that it may come again, deeper and closer and surer, and be with us always, even unto the end of the world' (Patience Strong's Outings)."

One of the selections is an anonymous poem, "The Strength of the Lonely." On one page Miss Ellis had written (signed "S. E."), "I can but believe that God allows a mother still to watch over and care for her family when he takes her from this world, and in our affliction that he draws us to himself, and to Jesus as our guide to him, through her spiritual influence, just as, while upon earth, he permitted her to be his instrument to lead and guide us in all that is good. All children too, even the youngest, are God's instruments for good, and their ministries cease not with their earthly life. The departed are with us everywhere, through our daily duties,—

"In the loneliest hour, in the crowd, they are nigh us."

A year or two after the mother's death Sallie joined the Unitarian Church, being baptized by Rev. A. A. Livermore, of whom she writes in a letter: "Rev. A. A. Livermore was settled here from the time I was fourteen to twenty-one, and he formed my religious character." Fitting indeed was it that he who has trained so many young men for the ministry should dedicate to God's service this young woman, also destined to be his minister to many souls. An old lady in the church remembers seeing Sallie go up to be baptized, leading a little brother by each hand, all the little children being baptized at the same time. To one of her nature, the vows then taken were a most sacred, real consecration of her whole self to God,—vows to be nobly fulfilled in the life.

Mr. Livermore writes of her:—

"During my pastorate of the Unitarian Church in Cincinnati, Mr. and Mrs. Rowland Ellis were valued parishioners of mine, and their children were all baptized by me. It was a lovely group of little folks, and the spirit of that consecration has gone largely through all their lives, and given them, I believe, the Christian flavor. They have, too, been very warmly united as a family, and in health and sickness, in life and death, they have borne strong testimony to the blessed anchorage of a positive religious faith.

"They were also diligent attendants on the Sunday school in the basement of the old church. Sallie's bright face and upright attitude was to be seen in her place as sure as the Sunday came.

"After I left Cincinnati I saw her but seldom, but on those occasions she always spoke of the earlier times in the church and the Sunday school with a warmth and glow of memory that showed that they had been real points of life to her mind and character. And especially after her deafness became a chastening hand laid upon her character, and family sorrows and bereavements followed in the train, it was plain that she found her religious trust the one thing needful."

Within another year business reverses swept away Mr. Ellis's entire fortune. As he had meantime married a lady who proved a most capable and devoted mother to the younger children, Sallie, released from domestic cares, felt that she ought to do something to assist her father. "She was so modest," says a friend, "I don't think it ever occurred to her that she could teach school. But she said there was one thing she knew she could do, and do well, and that was, to dance." So Miss Sallie became a dancing-teacher, having classes of children in their mothers' parlors.

Another friend (whose boys, now stalwart men in the church, were among Miss Ellis's pupils) says of her: "She was a lovely dancing-teacher. She not only taught the children to dance well, but she taught them such gentle, lovely manners. Indeed, the significant thing in Miss Ellis's life, to me, was her faithfulness. Whatever her hand found to do, she did, and did well. Because she had been so faithful at dancing-school, she was able to be so successful a teacher. Because, when taught sewing, she tried so hard to do her best, she became such a beautiful sewer, and was able to teach sewing;" for a sewing-class was another expedient of those days.

Her father moved to Chicago in 1851, where he resided three years. There Miss Ellis attended Mr. Shippen's church, taught a Sunday-school class, and had a class of newsboys evenings. After the return to Cincinnati, while Miss Ellis was at the sea-shore, she began to experience a painful roaring in the ears. Hearing, never quite perfect, was soon almost totally gone. The following years are little, to outward sight, but a record of invalidism, of trying this or that doctor, but still ever decreasing health and strength. Many dyspeptics, from Carlyle to lesser folk, have felt their disease, like charity, a cover for a multitude of sins. Miss Ellis suffered from chronic dyspepsia of aggravated type, from catarrhal and other troubles which finally wore away the always frail thread of life in consumptive decline.[1]

But through all these hard years Miss Ellis was doing what she could, and longing to do more. Until deafness prevented, she always taught in Sunday school. She was a devoted attendant on all church services, and worker in all church causes. The perfection of her handiwork made it in great demand. Knowing now Miss Ellis's possibilities, one almost grudges the Unitarian children, and the innumerable but beloved little nephews and nieces, the years of "Aunt Sallie's" life that went into dainty embroidery and perfect mittens for their wearing. The church fairs were always liberally aided by her willing hands. Indeed, it is difficult, without seeming exaggeration, to express her passion of devotion to her church. It was literally her life. Outside her family, to which she was warmly attached, everything centred for her there, and for many years one of her heaviest crosses was her inability to render the service she desired to her church and denomination.

The portrait prefacing this book was taken in 1871, when Miss Ellis was thirty-six years old,—perhaps the saddest period in her life. Youth, health, fortune, hearing, dear friends, had gone one after another. The future looked dark indeed. She felt within herself capacities for which there seemed no earthly opportunity. The face wears a sadder expression than that characterizing it in later life, when at last she had found her real work.[2]

Rev. Charles Noyes was settled as Unitarian pastor in Cincinnati in 1872. To him Miss Ellis always attributed her first missionary impulse.

In a letter to Rev. W. C. Gannett, July 28, 1885, she said:—

"Yes, it is a great source of comfort to have started the 'good seed,' and now to see so many stronger people taking up the work and doing so much better than I. A great deal is due to dear Mr. Charles Noyes. He won me by his kind heart while here, and was so kind in lending me his manuscripts always, and books, that he kept me along with the religion of the day. Then Mr. Weudte furthered the matter by putting me on the Missionary Committee, and finally started me out with the 'Pamphlet Mission.' You know the rest."

In her diary was a copy of a letter written Mr. Noyes on his departure from Cincinnati, dated June 23, 1875, a portion of which is here given.

"I cannot say 'so be it' to your departure without returning thanks for the many pleasant hours you have afforded me through your manuscripts, the books and papers you have so kindly lent me from time to time. You have given me something to think about for a long time, so I can do without any sermons for a while. I do not expect to find so kind a pastor very soon.

"From your first text, 'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me. Take heed, therefore, how ye hear,' I accepted you as a teacher learning more from God than from man. I have followed you from beginning to the end, and I have worked with you and for you to the best of my ability, my strength, and my means. Would I had been a more efficient worker! I have taken heed as to how I have heard. You have not changed my views so much as brought out more clearly what was already in my own mind. The best lesson I have learned from you is a firmer trust in God. You have brought me to the 'Source of all Truth, whence Jesus drew his life.' Here you leave me. An essential point to have reached, in my view; a firm rock on which to rest, and one that can never be taken from me. Some people are not satisfied with a faith so simple. They need more to rest on; as if there could be a stronger, better support than the 'voice in the soul.' From loss of hearing, the 'voice within' has spoken more clearly to me perhaps.... It is a very great disappointment to me to part with you and your family, for I have become very much attached to you all; for even little G—— has learned to look upon me as a friend. It is not every one who wins me; and when one does, it is all the harder to separate from him. Still, we are often compelled to give up our preferences, as I have learned before now.... The benediction I ask is the one you have so often asked for us (Mary——ears to me, and a reliable authority): 'May the Heavenly Father bless, preserve, and guide you all. May he give you wisdom to know and strength to do his holy will forevermore.'"

Mr. Noyes, being asked for his recollections of Miss Ellis, writes:—

"Sallie had a very true, deep, strong religious nature, and a leaning to religious, not to say theological, studies. Alone in Cincinnati when I first went there, I was often a guest at Mr. Ellis's Sunday table. Sallie borrowed my sermons. She liked to talk over the subject of the sermon, and this led to my recommending to her many books for her reading, and loaning to her what I had in my library. She became familiar with the writings of most of our Unitarian writers,—with Channing, Clarke, Hedge, Dewey, Norton, Furness, and many others. She was no careless reader, but a student of the writer's thought.... She had great breadth of mental outlook, and a great heart of charity and love for all. She admired the diversity of opinion in our body, and had faith in the unity of the Spirit that would fuse us into one.... If Sallie ever expressed wonder and surprise, it was that Unitarianism did not grow as fast as it ought, and that those who accepted its teachings did not identify themselves with it. We had our Mission School of about three hundred pupils, and our Sewing School.... The time had not come for the Pamphlet Mission or the Post Office; yet Miss Ellis was making the best preparation possible for her after-work, and in due time the door of best usefulness stood wide open. You know, as we all know, how well she filled her office.... Her letters were sermons,—tracts in themselves, best adapted to her correspondents, and, I am persuaded, did a grand work of their own. She heard with difficulty, she was not an easy talker, but she wrote with great clearness.... More than the books she sent out, she was to many a one the blessed missionary of our faith.... In her early studies the miracle question was a stumbling-block to Sallie. The old-time interpretation of miracle she could not accept; neither could she take up with the mythical theory of Strauss. Miracle must be in harmony with law. Jesus must be to her the natural flower of human nature, the perfect blossom of human development. Nature and the supernatural must be in harmony. Hence the delight she took in Dr. Furness's works. His works helped her, as they have so many others, out of her difficulties about the supernatural. And more than that, they fed her religious life, pure and simple, and let her into the heart of Christ. She often alluded to her debt to Dr. Furness, whom she admired and loved."

Miss Ellis little expected or would have desired to figure as a Unitarian saint. Her estimate of herself was lowly. Whatever her faults and limitations, however, they were only those natural to a strong nature driven in upon itself, beating in vain against the stern walls that everywhere surrounded it. Bravely did she strive to resist what she clearly perceived to be the natural tendencies of her peculiar troubles, and bravely did she succeed. The prayers, the tears, the struggles of those lonely, baffled years are known only to God, and are only hinted at here and there in the diary kept during a large part of her life. An unique diary it is, showing, as nothing else could, the passion of religious devotion which burned in her soul. Each day's record, no matter how brief, ends with passages of Scripture, or sometimes a hymn, appropriate to the day's mood or experience. In reading it, one realizes afresh the richness of the Bible in comfort and strength. The diary furnishes a complete history of the Unitarian Church of Cincinnati for many years. All the individual joys and sorrows of its members, their birthdays and their death-days, are here recorded with loving sympathy. Also, a complete record of every Sunday's service for many years is given, with always a full abstract of the sermon, sometimes filling several pages of fine, close writing. Occasionally it happened that the minister failed to hand Miss Sallie his sermon after delivery,—a grievous disappointment, almost too great to bear, as the diary testifies. Each year the personal matter grows less, the religious meditations and quotations consume more and more space, until of the journal in the last years her sister writes: "It seems to have been kept mainly to give vent to her pure, spiritual nature, which was ever longing for some expression of itself." A very few extracts are here given from the diary,—a glimpse only of the struggles and longings that unconsciously to herself were all fitting her for her work.

Miss Ellis's Mission

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